Spencer Stout – which passes for a name these days – is from Salt Lake Key Lime Island, or somewhere, in The Americas.

Dustin – no surname given – is his boyfriend.

Dustin was dollying about his business like any common-or-hotter-than-his-boyfriend gay, fingering sundries in Pottery Barn, chewing Hubba Bubbas, pinching his cheeks for that just-got-out-of-the-shower glow, when all of a sudden he found himself in an impossible situation. On top of a ladder in the lumber aisle of Home Depot – which isn’t even a euphemism!

And there, in front of his left and right eyes, all the dollies of Utah put on a level of colour and movement that set the gay rights movement back 50 years, all so that Spencer Stout – still a name – could propose to him as part of a sequence that is at least 2 minutes 43 seconds too long.

Because, in this enlightened age of showing off, you can’t just take your other ‘alf down Wimpy’s and stick a ring in an overdone patty then have a celebratory bum in the bus shelter from whence, nine months later, a kitten arrives. You’ve got to put on a song and a dance, literally. Otherwise how will they know you love them?

In conclusion, if our non-existent boyfriend ever pulls a stunt like this we will have no choice but to never bum him again. Amen.

In conclusion #2: Spencer, honey, when you’re going on the telly you rethink the suit.

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Rating: 7.7/10 (9 votes cast)

The poor bastard couldn't really say no..., 7.7 out of 10 based on 9 ratings

3 comments to “The poor bastard couldn’t really say no…”

I’ve gotten so tired of the Glee-choreographed, lip-synched production proposal. If these folks are so focused on turning a marriage proposal into a major, public, look-at-me, post-it-on-the-Web, disrupt-others’-peaceful-hardware-shopping Event, I have to question how focused they can be on (a) another actual person and (b) life events for which pre-recorded lip-synched choreographical extravaganzas are not even slightly appropriate. In short, if you have to make so much of a fuss about the wrapping paper, is what’s inside going to be inescapably disappointing? (And before you call me a heartless, bitter old queen, of course I cried a bit!)